19D9C090E03@comcast.net> 55e41a09   
   Title - Decoding the Enigma   
   Authors - Amy Jonas and MagsRose   
   E-mail - adjonas2000@yahoo.com or magsrose@comcast.net   
   Rating - FRT-13 (PG - 13)   
   Category - AU/Gen/Het   
   Archive - Just let us know.   
   Feedback - Yes, please. Any kind is always welcome. We just like to know   
   someone is reading this stuff.   
   Disclaimer - Without Prejudice. The names of all characters contained here in   
   are the property of Chris Carter, et. al. No infringements of these copyrights   
   are intended, and are used here without permission. All original characters   
   are the sole property    
   of Mags or Amy and may not be used without the author's permission.   
   Summary - In 1940, Private Investigator, Melvin Frohike thought he was working   
   on a simple missing person case but he soon found himself embroiled in   
   something far more sinister.   
   Authors' notes - After seeing the Maltese Falcon, Amy presented Mags with an   
   idea for The X-Files characters in an Alternate Universe.  Intrigued by the   
   possibilities, Mags suggested a co-authoring effort.  The result is the story   
   you see here.  Thanks    
   to Erynn and Alison for betaing this for us   
      
      
      
      
   Chapter 6   
      
      
      
   The ancient radio crackled and hissed with static.  Yves Harlow adjusted the   
   tuning dial but when the sound didn’t improve, she gave up and settled back in   
   her chair to listen.   
      
   “I'm standing on a rooftop, looking out over London. At the moment, everything   
   is quiet. For reasons of national as well as personal security, I am unable to   
   tell you the exact location from which I'm speaking. Off to my left, far away   
   in the distance, I    
   can see just the faint red anguished snap of anti aircraft bursts against a   
   steel blue sky. But the guns are so far away it is impossible to hear them   
   from this location. About five minutes ago, the guns in the immediate vicinity   
   were working."   
      
   Letting out a discouraged breath, Yves snapped off the radio.  While she   
   rarely missed Edward R. Murrow’s broadcasts, the reports from her country left   
   her tense and on edge.  Pushing the chair back, she stood up and decided to do   
   another circuit of the    
   house and check the locks and windows, saving the living room for last.   
      
    Professor Langly had claimed a windowless corner for himself and was even now   
   engrossed in his work.  She thought back to when she first met him.  She had   
   been astonished by his one-track thinking and then irritated that he could so   
   easily forget the    
   rest of the world.  But she soon realized he was far more aware then he let on.   
      
   “Langly,” Yves said waiting for a response.  “Professor Langly,” she repeated   
   louder when he gave no indication he heard her though she knew otherwise. “I’m   
   going out.  I’ll be back as soon as I can.”   
      
   “Yes, yes, fine.”  He waved his hand at her without looking up.   
      
   “Please, do not answer the door…” she continued before he cut her off.   
      
   “Or the phone or go outside.”  He looked at her and grinned. “I remember the   
   drill.”  Her grim expression told him she wasn’t in the least amused by his   
   attempt to lighten the mood.  His expression turned serious.  “Be careful,” he   
   said, turning back to    
   his equations but even the familiarity of his work couldn’t still the sudden   
   chill that ran up his spine.   
      
   Yves watched him a moment longer then rechecked the front windows.  Seeing   
   nothing out of the ordinary, she headed for the back of the house.   
      
   Where the front had a view of a long, gravel drive leading to the highway, the   
   rear opened to a spacious, outdoor wooden deck.  It contained a patio table,   
   four chairs and two chaise lounges.  A set of stairs led to a white, sandy   
   beach.   
      
   Stepping onto the deck, the breeze ruffled her long hair.  The crisp, autumn   
   air felt good on her skin after the recycled heat in the house. She paused at   
   the railing and watched the surf play a game of tag with several sandpipers.    
   The small birds raced    
   the water line snatching sand fleas as they burrowed into the ground.   
      
   Ever alert, she descended the stairs to the sand and walked down to the   
   water's edge.  The wind was stronger, the cold biting.  Since she hadn’t   
   planned to stay out long, she’d left her jacket in the house.  She wrapped her   
   arms around herself in    
   defiance of the chill and stared into the distance where white-topped waves   
   rolled and crested with the wind.   
      
   Ever since she was a little girl, she had loved the beach. It had always given   
   her pleasure and contentment.  But today, even the beach couldn’t quiet the   
   unease that plagued her soul.   
      
   She didn’t like leaving the Professor alone for any length of time but there   
   was someone else whose safety was also very much on her mind.   
      
   She was aware of the fact that she was stalling.   
      
   If she was to return by nightfall she had to leave right away.   
      
   Taking one last lingering look at the ocean, she turned and scanned the beach,   
   the dunes and finally the house.  Everything appeared to be as it should be.    
   Satisfied, she headed for the deck.  Once on the stairs, she glanced quickly   
   around then hopped    
   over the railing, the sand cushioning her landing. She jogged to her car,   
   which was parked in a neighboring driveway.  Opening the door, she slid   
   inside, started the engine and headed for D.C.   
      
      
      
      
      
   * * * * *   
      
      
      
   A man in the long coat and dark hat drew back into the shadows of an empty   
   storefront allowing the darkness to conceal his presence. With the clouds   
   obscuring the moon and a broken streetlight overhead, the recessed doorway   
   made him nearly invisible to    
   the casual observer.   
      
   He pulled his hat lower over his face so that even his eyes didn't show.   
      
   He waited.   
      
   No one noticed him as they passed: a couple laughing and talking together as   
   they walked: a woman obviously in a hurry, a man with a little dog. The dog   
   sniffed Frohike in the doorway, but its owner jerked on its leash to keep it   
   moving which allowed the    
   private investigator to remain unobserved.   
      
   Monica Reyes walked briskly down the opposite side of the street, her heels   
   making a distinct click, click, click on the pavement. Their cadence slowed as   
   she neared her building. She fished around in her purse to find her keys.   
   Locating them, she    
   climbed the stairs to her apartment building and, unlocking the door, went   
   inside.   
      
   Frohike carefully scrutinized the other pedestrians. No one seemed to have any   
   interest in where Monica had gone. They all went about their own business. His   
   attention was drawn to one slow moving car. The driver stopped near another   
   vehicle that was    
   pulling away from the curb as if waiting for the parking spot.   
      
   A tall man in a dark coat and hat came around the corner: his collar was   
   turned up and his hat pulled low over his ears. This made Frohike suspicious   
   since it was not that cold an evening. The man approached Monica's building,   
   stopping near the bottom of    
   the stairs.   
      
   Frohike tensed when he saw the man turn to scan the street as if searching for   
   someone. He then glanced up at the building before checking his watch.   
      
   Suspecting that this was his man, Frohike stepped forward out of the shadows   
   to get a better look.   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)